Medium is Rare, and Rare is Impossible

We went to Applebee's last night for a quick dinner after TB's swim practice. I haven't been there in probably ten years, but I had a gift card so off we went.

I wasn't in the mood for a Three-course Blowout, or whatever they call the specials, and the dinners weren't calling to me, so I went for the bacon-cheeseburger. I was a bit stunned when the waiter asked, "Do you want that well done or medium-well?"

Excuse me? I thought that was a strange question. I know that restaurants have had the clamps put on them by the Health Department, so I was surprised to be given a choice. I ordered this burger knowing in advance that it would be overcooked, crispy around the edges and dried up throughout. That's not what I prefer. I like my burgers juicy: drippity-dripping down my chin and forearms juicy. But I know when I go out, that is generally not an option, so I can live with whatever I get.

LBB will tell you, and my father-in-law, G’diddy, will concur, that there is almost nothing I consider inedible. G’diddy is amused by this, and usually just comments by saying, “Woh! Wow!”

So I ordered medium-well, and of course it was desiccated. I wish they would just skip the pretense of choice, eliminate the faint hope of a little pink-in-the-middle, and put it right out there on the menu: “You’ll need a big squirt of ketchup and a dollop of mayo. These burgers are dry!”

LBB had a nice plate of shrimp, and the TB annihilated some chicken fingers and fries. Overall, just what we expected. Next time, though, I’m getting a salad.